


Sing A Song Of Forgetting

by impravidus



Series: and they were roommates [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rebuilding, Recovery, Unfinished, Whump, outlined
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: Rebuilding with missing broken pieces.~Sixth and final book of the "and they were roommates" series~(MAKE SURE TO READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE!)
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Series: and they were roommates [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414066
Comments: 23
Kudos: 68





	1. (you've forgotten about us) Don't Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. Unfortunately, this series is unfinished and will most likely will never be finished. I really wanted this last book to be something amazing and special like this series had been to me, but I've moved on from the fandom and from this series and what it represents. I haven't loved this story in a long time, and I don't think I'll be able to give it the love I once gave it to make it what you all deserve. However, I did get something on the page before I moved on, and I wanted to share that along with the outline of what I had planned to write just to give you some closure. 
> 
> Thank you for everything you have given me through this series. Thank you for your support and your kind words and for joining me on this journey filled with amazing and wonderful memories and learning experiences.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

_ Blood on his hands and shirt and pants. Hands and shirt and pants. Hands and shirt and pants. _

_ Handsandshirtandpantsandhandsandshirtsandpantsandskinskinskin… _

Sticky red soaking into his dress shirt. Dark and red and wet and seeping onto his hands and shirt and pants.

Peter, broken and brittle and bruised with blood dripped down his face and hands and shirt and pants.

_ Handsandshirtandpantsandskinandskinandbloodandskinand… _

“Harley?”

His head snapped up, tremoring hands wringing out his knuckles. “Tony? Is he… will he…”

“He’s getting checked up right now. He’s gonna be fine.”

“He’s gonna be fine?” Harley repeated.

“He’s gonna be fine.”

Harley had to be ripped away from Peter’s side, tears streaming down his face, his cheeks stained with blood from where he wiped them away which only made him shake more.

Peter had lulled back into unconsciousness soon after Harley talked to him, and it was making him itch in anticipation for him to open his eyes once more.

His shirt was now stiff, the blood caked in the fabric drying hard against his torso. The phantom feeling of Peter in his arms haunted his senses, craving the sensation of his body pressed against his, the faint beating of his heart against his chest.

But instead, he was sitting in a rigid chair, staining the speckled vinyl red. Red on his hands and shirt and pants andhandsandshirtandpants…

“Harley,” Tony said firmly.

“What?”

Tony pulled his hands apart, where his nails were cutting into his soft skin. 

“Oh.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony asked.

“Grey. Blue. Red. Green.”

Tony nodded. “I won’t hold it against you if you want to check out. You don’t have to be present right now. It’s okay.”

Harley shook his head. “No. Then I… I won’t ever come back from it. Not the same. I have to… I can’t.”

“Okay. You know you.”

Harley stared at the tiles, jaw tight. “It was our first kiss in two months. And I… we both were so distracted. We were so lost in the moment. It was so easy to get lost in the moment when he… and I… it was the perfect night. And… and he was so perfect. He is perfect. And then she… and I almost… because she knew how to… I missed her. I missed her and I let her manipulate me again. I let her take control. It’s all I knew for so long and it was so easy to fall back… because I missed her. And I know I shouldn’t. I can’t. But I… did. And it was so easy to… because I was so lost in the moment. And I can’t think when it comes to her. I used to fight so hard… fight and fight and fight and fight and…” His breath hitched. “She did that to him. And I let her.”

“You didn’t let her do anything,” Tony said. “Harley. You didn’t  _ let her  _ do anything. You hear me? What she did was out of your control. You did what you could do and you protected him the best you could in the time you had and the state of mind you were in.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Harley said through gritted teeth.

“Harley.” 

He didn’t look up.

_ “Harley. _ You cannot sit here and play the blame game because the only person to blame is her. Do you hear me? This is not your fault.”

“But…”

“No buts. Harley, it… do you know how proud I am of you? After everything you’ve been through, you found the strength to take her down. You found the strength to not listen to her lies and to push past your fear and deeply rooted obligation to her and not do what she told you to do. That… bud, that’s amazing. That’s absolutely amazing. And I am so, so proud of you. I don’t say that kind of stuff, you know I don’t, but you need to hear it. These last months? I’ve been so proud of you. You have made so much progress and you… I know how hard it is to come back from things. It’s hell. But you pulled through. You found yourself again. You’re finding yourself again. And I… I am proud of the man you’re becoming.”

He smiled weakly. “Thanks, Tony.”

Dr. Cho approached the two, a clipboard in hand and an indiscernible expression on her face. “Can you please come with me to discuss Peter’s prognosis?”

Tony nodded, standing up. Harley stared at his hands, wringing out his knuckles.

“Harley?” Dr. Cho called. “Are you coming?”

He looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “Me?”

“You  _ are _ Peter’s emergency contact.”

“I-I am?” Harley asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. You are.” She waved her hand. “Follow me.”

Harley’s hands trembled as he walked, feet heavy and sluggish, pain aching and numb, but not unbearable.

His breath hitched in his throat as he saw Peter reclining peacefully on the hospital bed, body wrapped in a myriad of bandages, hair still caked with blood.

“Before we went to surgery, we asked him a few questions to assess his cognitive awareness in case of concussion. However, we found that he has likely acquired a form of retrograde amnesia,” she explained.

“How bad is it?” Tony asked.

“It’s not completely severe. He seems to have lost about ten months of memories.”

Harley shot up. “Ten months?!”

Dr. Cho glared at him, causing him to stumble back to his seat, silently seething.

“Along with the potential retrograde amnesia, his eardrums have been ruptured, but thankfully, the damage is not severe and should heal overnight with his enhanced healing. He has multiple hairline fractures throughout most of his bones that are mending themselves as we speak, however he cracked three of his ribs and sprained his radius on impact along with the base of his skull that has stapled and will heal in about thirty six hours.”

“So, the amnesia. Is it… does he have brain damage?” Harley questioned.

She shook her head. “In fact, despite the physical damage to his skull, his brain is completely healthy. They are in line with his previous scans. So I… this could very likely be temporary, triggered by trauma. However, we must be prepared that it…”

“That it’s not,” Harley finished, fists clenched.

“The brain is a tricky thing. Sometimes, internal threats are more difficult than the physical.”

“So you’re saying that this is… that it could just all be in his head?”

“External trauma may have triggered the amnesia, however, psychological blocks are also a possibility. If anything, you should be familiar with the concept considering you suffered a similar memory block.”

“Because I was kidnapped and tortured for weeks!” Harley snapped. “Peter hasn’t… how could he forget… that…”

“Please just take a moment to breathe, Harley. Just breathe.” 

He heaved unsteady breaths.

“If you are not mentally in the place to receive this information, then I would suggest that you refrain from the rest of this medical debriefing,” she stated.

“No… I… I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Tony eyed him warily. “Harley. It’s okay if you need to sit this one out. I can catch you up.”

Harley’s lip wobbled unsteadily. “I think I… I need to take a breather.”

“I’m proud of you, bud. I’m glad you’re taking care of you.”

“Peter would want me to,” Harley said.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up? I’m sure you want to…” He stopped himself. “Go get cleaned up.”

Harley gave a silent nod and walked over to Peter, pressing a soft kiss on his temple before exiting, Dr. Cho’s voice fading away as he walked farther and farther from the medbay. 

He floated to his quarters, stripping himself of his crusty clothes, frozen, petrified at the way his body was coated in Peter’s blood.

He started to run the bath, not bothering to close the drain because that last thing he wanted to do was sit in a pool of bathwater tinted red with Peter’s blood on his body and hands and skin and… and…

He ran the bath, not too hot, but a comfortable warm. He sat in the clawfoot tub and reclined against the cold white ceramic, the water running down his shoulder, just the way he liked it. (The only way he could handle it.)

With the magenta loofa that he never thought he would ever get real use out of, he scrubbed until his skin was raw and the remnants of red were gone and the water ran clear. And then he was sitting in the bathtub, staring at the granite counter, fingers pruning and legs shivering and shaking (though he knew it couldn’t be from the temperature). 

He was finally able to peel himself from the tub, nearly slipping on his way onto the smooth tiles. Slipping on his softest pajamas, he pulled out his phone, fingers going to call Abby, but he froze as he caught the time.  _ 4:07AM. _

Knowing that he wasn’t getting sleep anytime soon, he headed to the kitchen and busied himself with a tall glass of whipped coffee. The monotony of whipping kept his mind occupied and the familiar clink that he had become accustomed to from his morning routine was reassuring and relaxing.

He sipped at the drink, fingers chilled from the cool glass, and stared at the wall, the room dim. 

“Harley?”

He looked up, eyes glazed. 

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

He squeezed his glass, wet from condensation. “I don’t know.”

Tony nodded. “That’s alright. That’s totally fine. Peter is gonna be asleep for a while, so I figured I’d come keep you company.”

“May I sit with him? So when he wakes up… then I can be there?” he asked softly.

“Of course you can. I can even bring in another bed into the room if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “The chair is fine.”

Tony looked like he wanted to refute, but held his lips together tightly. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

Tony tried to decipher whatever was going through Harley’s head, but dropped it quickly with a weak smile. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Peter looked so pale and small hooked up to wires and machines. The bruising was slowly fading and they had changed him out of his blood soaked suit.

Harley sat next to the bed, a gentle hand gripping Peter’s, careful to not squeeze. He placed his other hand on his cheekbone, running a thumb on his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He placed a slow kiss on his knuckles.

“Harley?” 

His head snapped up, eyes wide at the brunette boy who groggily stirred awake. “Hey,” he said quietly, pulling himself away from Peter.

“What are you… what happened?” Peter slurred.

“I should probably let the doctor explain. I’ll go get her.”

Peter just nodded dizzily, eyes fluttering shut again.

Harley hesitantly left his side and went out, shutting the door behind him and wandering the long hall in search of…

“Doctor Cho! Peter’s awake,” Harley said.

“Yes, I know. I got an alert and was on my way.”

Harley paused. “Oh. Right.”

“Walk with me,” she said. 

Harley shuffled with her, staring at his shoes.

“Do you feel stable enough to be present for my evaluation, or do you need to sit out? There is no correct answer.”

“I want to be there. I can… I can handle it.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “If you are in distress, you may leave at any time. Do you understand? The last thing we want is to distress Peter.”

“That is the last thing I want to do,” Harley parroted.

“Then understand that he may be in a very fragile state right now and the only thing we want is to make him feel comfortable and safe.”

“Of course.”

They approached the door. “After you.”

Harley gave a tentative smile and opened the door.

Peter was now more awake than before, twiddling his fingers. “Dr. Cho!”

“Hi, Peter,” she replied.

“What… what happened?” he asked with confusion.

“How’s your hearing?” she asked instead of answering his question.

“It’s a little like I’m underwater, but it’s… I can hear.”

She nodded. “Alright.” She handed him a tablet. “Well, you were involved in an altercation that caused you to have hundreds of hairline fractures throughout every bone in your body as well as…”

Harley zoned out as he studied Peter’s face. The way his brows strung together in deep thought and how he scrunched his nose, deep in thought. He hadn’t noticed he had been longingly staring until Peter had looked over to him, breaking him from his thoughts as he bashfully looked away.

“I just want to ask you some questions,” Dr. Cho told Peter. “You may remember them from before your surgery.”

He gave a finger gun. “Shoot.”

“What is your name?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“What year is it?”

“2019.”

Her face remained neutral. “What is the last thing you remember before you got hurt?”

He paused. “Well, I don’t remember getting hurt. Last thing I remember, I was going to the grocery store after work to grab some essentials and flowers.”

She asked more questions, each answer making the pit in Harley’s stomach fall deeper and heavier.

“Well, Peter, I can safely say that you have retrograde amnesia.”

His eyes went wide. “Amnesia? But I… it doesn’t feel like I have amnesia.”

“I don’t suppose there is a way it’s supposed to feel,” she replied.

“How bad is it? I mean, I remember my name and stuff.”

She took a moment to find the right words. “Peter, it is May 2, 2020.”

His jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“We have many resources to monitor your brain function and overall health, but the best course of action is to help you slowly acclimate to your normal life. Slowly introduce you to the things that are most familiar to you.”

“Is my brain okay? There’s no damage or anything right?”

She swiped the tablet. “The MRI and CT scans came clean.”

“Then why can’t I remember anything?” Peter asked, a waver in his voice.

“It could be a factor of things. The specific head injury you endured. Internal forces. Mental blocks. A mix of all three.”

He bobbed his head. “Alright. Uh, okay.” He eyed Harley warily again.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Cho questioned.

“Uh, just uh, sorry, not to be rude, uh, but…” He gulped uncomfortably. “What are you doing here?” 

Harley’s heart sunk. “I’m your, uh, emergency contact.”

Peter nodded slowly, not fully understanding. “So are we… we’re friends now?”

“Something like that,” Harley said with a rough crack to his voice.

“Huh. I guess a lot can happen in ten months.”

Harley nodded, chest tight. “Yeah. A lot can.”

Dr. Cho cleared her throat. “We’re going to want to monitor your recovery for a couple more hours, but you should be free to go home by the end of the day.”

“Sounds good,” Peter said, still looking at Harley, trying to piece together the mystery that he was.

Harley’s phone buzzed. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stepped out of the room, answering the call, mouth dry. “Hello?”

“Hey, Harley! Emma Lee’s mom just wanted to know if she should drop me off or if you’re gonna pick me up?”

Harley cursed silently under his breath. “I’ll come get you. I actually… I’m at the compound right now.”

There was a long pause on the other side. “Why?”

“I… something happened last night and Peter got really hurt.”

“What happened?” she asked, fear evident in her voice.

“He… he’s got amnesia. You know what that means?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Well, he… he doesn’t remember a lot of things right now, so he… he won’t remember who you are.”

Another pregnant pause. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to come here. We can go back to the apartment and just wait for Peter to be released and we can… well I don’t… I don’t know what we’ll do. But…”

“I know you want to be with him. So… you can come pick me up, and we can stay with him,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Harley asked.

“I’m sure.”

“I’m on my way.”

.-~*~-.

Apparently, Peter’s phone was shattered in the “altercation” that caused his injury, so he was mindlessly enjoying the cooking show that played on the Medbay television. His attention was pulled away when he heard a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Harley said.

“Hi,” Peter replied, guarded. 

“I, uh, I just wanted to come say hi. I, uhm, I’m sure this is all really overwhelming.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Well, I just wanted to introduce you to someone so you know about them before you… because well… it’s, it’s complicated.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

“We’re still roommates,” Harley said. “But, my little sister came to live with us.”

“You have a little sister?” Peter questioned.

Harley’s face dropped. “Uh, yeah. I do. And, well, she lives with us. So you’re gonna be seeing her a lot, and I just wanted to introduce you two so you wouldn’t be surprised when we go back to the apartment.”

Peter pressed his lips in a tight line. “Well, I, uh, I guess you can, bring her in?”

Harley gave a grateful smile and left the room, soon coming back with a small blonde girl, teary eyes pointed to the ground, Harley’s hand placed gently on her shoulder.

“Peter, this is Abby. My little sister,” Harley said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Peter said hesitantly. 

Abby choked out a light sob.

Peter froze with panic. “I’m sorry I… I know we must’ve met before. I just…”

“I know. You don’t remember,” she said quietly. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, still not looking up.

“Sorry, I didn’t know this would…” He squatted down to Abby’s level. “Hey, kiddo. Do you wanna come help me to make Peter some breakfast?”  _ Do you want to get out of here because this was obviously not a good idea? _

She nodded silently, wiping her eyes again.

Peter gawked at the sight before him, Harley gentle and kind, voice tender and sweet. It was unlike anything he had ever seen from him.

Harley placed a gentle palm to Abby’s cheek and wiped away a tear, and kissed her on the forehead.

“We’re gonna go get you something to eat,” Harley told Peter softly.

“Okay,” Peter responded, still flabbergasted by this new Harley.

“We’ll be back.” And with that, he pulled Abby out of the room. 

It was a silent walk to the kitchen, Abby sniveling and Harley rubbing circles in her back. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No. No no no, don’t be sorry. There’s nothin’ to be sorry about. I know this is real scary. I wasn’t thinkin’, bringin’ you in there like that.”

“Can we just… can we make him some pancakes? He loves pancakes.”

Harley smiled sadly. “We can make him some pancakes.”

The sounds of cutlery and bowls clanging together filled the room as the two shuffled around the kitchen. It was a nice distraction, even just for a moment.

Harley was pulled from his concentration when Tony knocked on the door frame.

“Hey. Can I talk to you for a second?” 

Harley looked at the mess of the kitchen. “You wanna finish decorating Peter’s pancakes?” Harley asked Abby.

She nodded wordlessly, and squirted whipped cream in her mouth.

“Now, don’t go eating all the whipped cream. Leave some for the rest of us.”

She grinned.

Harley, more relaxed and reassured she was alright, followed Tony out of the room. “What’s up?”

“We need your statement on what happened last night.”

He tensed. “Oh.”

“If you need more time…”

“No. I… I can do it. Just, can I finish this? Get Peter his pancakes? Try to pretend that things aren’t as crazy as they are for just… for just a second?” Harley asked, his voice exemplifying his clear exhaustion.

“Of course. And, there’s going to be an interrogation for Rancoufe. She’s going to get justice.”

“Thanks, Tony. That’s… great.”

Tony put a hand on Harley’s shoulder. “It’s gonna work out. This will all… it’s gonna work out.”

Harley turned back to see Abby humming as she drew a smiley face with blueberries on her pancakes. “I sure hope it does.” His fists clenched. “Because I don’t know how much more we can take.”


	2. Everything Has Changed

A wave of familiarity rushed over Peter as he stepped into their apartment, but his face remained blank and guarded, a polite smile on his lips. “You redecorated.”

Harley frowned. “ _ We  _ did.”

Peter bobbed his head in response, walking slowly as he took in the new atmosphere. “Where did we get all this new stuff?”

“Storage. We… we went back to the storage unit together and… yeah.”

Peter bit his lip, a sad glint in his eyes as he recognized the little pieces of his old life adorning the room.

“Are you hungry? I can whip up some dinner,” Harley said.

Peter looked to him, surprised. “Oh, that’s… that’s really nice of you, but I’m sure I can find something to eat…”

“It’s really no imposition. We usually have family dinners anyways.”

Peter just nodded again. “Right. I… I’m just gonna grab a shower.”

“Alright. Be careful, alright?” Harley cringed at his choice of words.

Peter just eyed him with confusion. “Right…” As he headed to his room, he froze, seeing the new setup. “We sleep in the same room?”

Harley’s eyes widened. “We… yeah. We do.”

“Because of Abby, right?” Peter asked.

“Actually, we uh, I moved into your room in October. It’s…” He chuckled fondly. “It’s a long story.”

“Right. I… right.” Peter grabbed a hoodie and fleece pajama pants. “I’m just gonna…”

“You do that,” Harley replied.

Peter gave an awkward thumbs up and headed to the bathroom. 

“Why is Peter acting so weird?” Abby asked.

“Because he doesn’t really know us. He doesn’t remember us,” Harley explained.

“He knows you,” Abby stated.

“He doesn’t know this me. The me that he knows or thinks he knows isn’t a nice guy. I wasn’t very kind to Peter when we first met so he’s being cautious.”

“But you two are…”

Harley shushed her. “Remember. He can still hear us.”

Abby snapped her mouth closed, lips in a tight line.

Before they came back, they made a list of “dos” and “don’ts” when it came to Peter’s memories. Things they can tell him and can’t tell him. 

Do: Tell him about Abby

Don’t: Tell him how he and Abby got so close

Do: Tell him that Harley doesn’t drink anymore

Don’t: Tell him the intricacies of what else Harley is recovering from 

Do: Warn him about triggers

Don’t: Expand on why

It was a finicky system with lots of loopholes and grey areas, but they had to deal with it. The last thing Peter needed was Harley’s trauma and baggage. He needed positivity and gradual exposure. 

And, for the time being, Harley wasn’t going to force whatever messed up scraps and remains of a relationship onto Peter when the last thing he remembered was Harley making an ass of himself drunk off his gourd.

“You alright with meat and three?” Harley asked.

“Depends. What’s on the menu?” Abby responded.

Harley let out a surprised laugh. “Fried chicken, corn on the cob, brussel sprouts…” Abby groaned. “And mac and cheese.”

She perked up. “Well, in that case…”

He shook his head with a bright smile on his lips. “Can you help me get everything ready?”

She put her hand up to a salute. “Yes chef!”

He rolled his eyes. “Pull up the Food Network recipe and mix up the spices and flour please.”

She gave a firm nod and went to raid the pantry.

Harley focused on the sides, flipping on the country playlist that Abby had put together to keep him up to date after his time away.

He swayed in his spot, bobbing his head and humming. 

“Smells good.”

Harley looked up from the mac and cheese he was stirring and froze.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, obviously reading Harley’s thunderstruck expression.

Harley’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. “Nothin’. It’s nothin’.” 

“No, c’mon. What is it?”

“That’s my hoodie,” Harley stated.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll…” He pulled it up, clearly showcasing his abs and making Harley’s breath hitch in his throat.

“No! It’s okay! You always liked that one, so I let you keep it.”

Peter paused, hoodie still halfway off his body. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Harley said, mind screaming at other parts of his body.

Peter slipped it back on, hugging himself self consciously, the sleeves falling past his hands. “Thanks.”

“You hungry?” Harley went back to mixing the mac and cheese. “I know how your appetite can be.” 

Peter tensed. “You do?”

Harley stopped, turning to him. “I-I, uh, uhm, yeah. I do.”

Peter let out a shaky breath. “Ten months and you…”

“Yeah. I… it was actually last fall when I found out. You, uh, got shot.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Abby looked between the two incredulously. 

“So, uh, dinner!” Harley said after an uncomfortable pause of silence. “Made some of your favorites. Well, I hope they’re still your favorites. They were when you… uh yeah. Cheddar mac and cheese, not the artificial stuff, though I know you could definitely live off that. Even got the breadcrumbs to make that crunchy top that you… well I don’t know if you’ve had that yet. But it’s good. I promise.” He pointed to the ceramic bowls. “Green beans and corn. Gotta get somethin’ healthy. I would’ve made potatoes but uh…” He trailed off. “Well, I don’t eat potatoes.”

“There a story that goes with that?” Peter asked.

“It’s a story for another day,” Harley replied.

“Thank you for making dinner. You didn’t have to.”

“I usually do,” Harley said. 

“It’s just… I’m gonna have to get used to it.”

“You will,” Harley said, more hopeful than a definite statement.

As the three dined at the island countertop, the sounds of forks clinking against ceramic plates filled the tense air.

“So, how was Emma Lee’s?” Harley asked Abby.

“It was good! We made personal pizzas and then we watched  _ Inside Out _ ,” she replied, taking a heaping spoonful of mac and cheese.

“Oh, god. That movie makes me bawl,” Peter said, surprised in his lack of hesitance to join the conversation.

“Yeah, I know. The first time we watched it together, you cried from the whole Memory Dump scene until the reuniting scene. I didn’t think you were ever going to stop crying,” Abby stated.

“It’s a very emotional movie, and I was in a very emotional state!” Peter exclaimed, but paused. “Wait. Was I?”

“Were you what?” Harley asked, now very attentive of Peter’s pure confusion.

“Was I in an emotional state?” Peter questioned.

“That’s what you always say when we talk about  _ Inside Out _ ,” Abby said, a quick coverup that Peter thankfully believed.

“I’m guessing you two didn’t get to do much homework then,” Harley said.

Abby groaned. 

“And I’ll take that as a no,” Harley said, pointing his fork at her.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” Abby said.

“But you should get started tonight so you’re not cramming and rushing and get a bad grade,” Harley replied, his voice stern but gentle.

“Fine. I’ll do it after dinner before…” she paused. “Guess we’re not doing that tonight.”

Harley softened with a pang in his chest and a flash of hurt across his face. “We’ll have the evening free tomorrow for whatever we want. Okay?”

Abby nodded sadly, not looking up from her plate. “I’m not hungry anymore. May I be excused?” 

Harley paused, but nodded back. “Of course you can. Just make sure to rinse off your plate good, alright?”

“Will do.”

She jumped down from her stool and did as he told and went to her room, shutting the door with a slight slam.

“Is she alright?” Peter asked.

“She’s just upset. You and her usually watch her show on Saturdays.”

“I could still…” Peter started.

“It’s alright. Plus, you guys are pretty far in, and you wouldn’t know all the inside jokes.” He chuckled lightly. “I don’t even know all of them yet.” He placed a tentative hand on Peter’s. “She’ll come around. She always does.”

Peter stared at Harley with a speechless bewilderment.

“What?” Harley asked.

“Sorry. I just… I’m just not used to you being like… this.”

“You mean not a drunk narcissistic asshole?” Harley replied flatly.

“Something like that.”

“I get why you don’t trust me. You’ve got no reason to, especially with the way that I…” He trailed off. “And all I can hope is that I can earn that trust back and prove that I’m worthy of it. A lot’s happened and I… I’ve changed. Or I… I’d like to think I have. And I just hope… all I want to do is make you feel comfortable because I’m sure you’re pretty out of your element right now. So if you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need anything I… I’ll give it to you. I just want to help you however I can because you… you’ve helped me a lot, and it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

Peter looked down bashfully at his plate, unsure of how to respond. Looking back at the shut door, the sound of aggravated huffs piquing his interest, he turned to Harley. “Tell me about Abby.”

A fond smile grew on Harley’s lips. “She’s the best. She’s… she’s the best kid anyone could ever ask for. She’s so mature and intelligent for her age but she still just, she has so much hope and optimism despite all the shit that the world has thrown her way. She’s been through… she’s been through so much, and she’s so young, but she’s so damn strong. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be, and she just, she brings the best out of everyone. She sees the best in everyone and knows when people aren’t trying to be that best person that she knows they can be.

“She’s steadfast and honest and so damn stubborn that it is practically impossible to steer her away from what she believes in. She trusts, and she trusts hard, and when that trust is broken, it breaks her down. 

“She’s so talented. Music runs in the family, but she took it further than I ever could. She loves singing and dancing and though she won’t admit it, she’s a damn good artist too. She loves  _ My Little Pony  _ but that’s you and her thing. She recently got into  _ The Flash  _ and the parent in me is terrified that this is the transition into her angsty “I’m too cool for little kid stuff” phase because all I want her to do is hold onto her childhood for as long as she can.

“She looks up to you a lot. You two have gotten really close over these last few months, I, you two just get along like a house fire. She trusts you. You taught her a lot of things and you’ve been an amazing role model for her, and you and her… you… you just get each other. But it’s easy to let her in. She’s just knows all the ways to worm herself into your heart.

“She’s kind and she’s generous and she’s smart. Too smart sometimes. And she’s… she’s.. she makes me a better person that I ever thought I could be.”

Peter smiled, astounded by Harley’s ease at vulnerability. “It’s nice seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing. I just… she sounds really special.”

“She is. You’ll remember her. You’ll remember.” He studied Peter’s face, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I… I’m figuring it out. I’m sure this must be strange for you.”

“I’m sure it’s stranger for you. I mean… there’s a lot to catch up on. Especially when… I… how are you feeling? About everything that happened? And I don’t mean this. I mean the thing I know you’re doing a very good job at avoiding and pretending to not be bothered by.”

“I guess it’s just… you’ve had almost a year to grieve, but for me it’s only been a couple months since May… but something in me… it doesn’t feel like it’s been a couple months. It’s almost like I know that it’s okay. And that I’ve just speedran the grieving process and threw myself into the acceptance even though I know just the other day I was still very much in denial. It’s like… even though it aches and hurts and feels like a fresh wound with new salt, I know it’s gonna be okay.”

“I think it’s because you had come to accept it before you… and something in you remembers that.”

Peter nodded wordlessly. “How did you do it? How did… how did I do it?”

“You stopped running.”

Peter stared into Harley’s baby blues, hooded eyes that were filled with trust and a calculated forbearance and a fondness that Peter had never expected to be directed towards him. “Then, I better stop running.”


	3. (am i the only one) Pretending?

Peter groaned groggily, eyes crusted with sleep, as he struggled to find his phone and stop the incessant beeping of his alarm. Unable to fall back asleep, he pulled himself away from the comfort of his bed, taking note of the empty made bed on the other side of the room. 

He shuffled to the kitchen, rubbing a palm over his face, senses wide awake as he caught the scent of bacon and eggs.

“Morning,” Harley said, peeling an orange.

“Morning?” Peter replied, still gobsmacked by the domesticity that Harley exemplified so easily, something that Peter was still not used to seeing so much. Something in him was still on guard, as if this was a persona that Harley was using to manipulate him or to lure him into a false sense of security, but the way he looked at Abby and at him was irreplicable without sincerity. 

“I’m making breakfast sandwiches. You thinkin’ bagel or toast?” Harley asked.

“Bagel please,” Peter replied, sitting at the counter.

“I figured, but I just wanted to check. The everything bagels, right?” 

Peter nodded. “That’d be great.”

“How’d you sleep? Any discomfort?” 

He shook his head. “No discomfort. I… slept great.”

“That’s good.” Harley handed Abby the peeled orange. “There ya go.”

“Thanks, Harls,” Abby said softly. She quietly nibbled on her orange, sneaking worried glances at Peter.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, uncomfortable because of his inexperience with kids outside of the suit.

“It’s Sunday,” she stated.

“Yeah. It is?” Peter replied, unsure of what she meant.

“We go to church on Sundays,” she said.

“You and Harley?” 

She shook her head. “You and me.”

“Church? Do you mean… but shabbat service isn’t until…”

She shook her head again. “No. I mean Church. We started going when…” She looked to Harley who gave a clenched jaw shake of the head. “We started going in the winter.”

“Well I… I don’t know anything about church,” Peter said.

“That’s okay. You didn’t when we started going either. It’s really easy,” Abby said, her confidence building.

Peter looked to Harley for some sign of an answer. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t wanna. I can go with Abby.” He paused. “But it might be good for you. Get you out. Maybe spark some memories.”

Peter pursed his lips. “Guess we’re going to church.”

.-~*~-.

Peter was very out of his element. Entering the elegant room adorned with murals of people he didn’t know and Latin words that he couldn’t translate, Peter was getting a hard pit in his chest, stomach dropping, hands clammy and clenched.

But most of all, he felt sad. A wave of despair rushed through him leaving him feeling distraught, something he hadn’t felt since May passed, which wasn’t too long ago for him, though technically it had been. It was like the church represented something more. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling of grief and sorrow lying heavy in his mind. But, the mass was familiar and it was programmed into his muscle memory.

When he got onto his knees to pray, tears pricked at his eyes, the thought of  _ “please let him be okay, safe, okay, alive”  _ swirled in his mind, overwhelming his senses.

When he rose again, his legs were wobbly and his eyes were watery, but he continued, curiosity burning bright.

As Peter passed by the back of the pews, a crowd gathered by the door, he got a flash. 

_ Harley in a wheelchair, distressed and panicked. Brushed shoulders in the big crowd. Fear. Impatience. Urgency.  _

“May we please get donuts?” Abby asked, pulling him from his thoughts. “We always get donuts after church.”

Peter nodded absentmindedly. “As long as you don’t get the cinnamon one again and make me nauseous for the whole walk home.” His head pounded.

Abby stared at him with wide eyes. “You…”

“Uh, yeah.” With a thick gulp, he handed seven dollars to the vendor, grabbing a pink rainbow sprinkle donut and a chocolate glaze.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a bite.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s not ladylike,” Peter said before he could process what he was saying.

“You and Harley always say that,” she said after gulping down the sugary treat.

“Well, it’s important that you have manners,” Peter replied, still stiff from the drumming in his temples.

The walk back to the apartment had the uncomfortable silence settling thick in the air, Peter anxiously holding onto Abby’s hand.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh. Tell me about yourself. I feel like we haven’t gotten to talk yet.”

Hurt flashed in Abby’s eyes. “I, uh, I’m in choir at my school. I went to all county choir last month. And I was in a production of Annie. I played one of the lead orphans.”

“That’s amazing! I bet Harley was really proud of you.”

“He was. Eventually.”

Peter’s smile wavered, unsure of what that meant. 

“So were you,” she stated.

“I’m sure I was. That’s really great.”

“Thanks.”

Silence fell again and Peter tried to decipher what was running through Abby’s mind.

“So what do we usually do together? I… I mean, Harley said we watch our show on Saturdays. Do we all play board games together? I bet Harley gets really competitive. Or do we all bake together after school? Though I’m sure I’m still a mess in the kitchen. Have we built pillow forts together yet? Those are always fun. And I bet we have some epic movie nights.”

Abby’s face fell. “We haven’t really had a lot of time together to do that kinds of stuff together.”

“You and me?” Peter asked.

“All of us.”

Peter blinked, unsure of how to take the information. “Why?”

Her fists clenched. “Uh, Harley had to go away for a while. And then when he came back, he was really busy with… stuff. And then you and him stopped being friends for a while. And then you were friends again, but not for… not for long.”

Peter’s brow furrowed deeper. “Oh.”

“It’s all… it’s pretty complicated. A lot’s happened.”

“So you both keep saying,” Peter said.

“Well it’s true,” Abby responded. 

“So, I guess we’re not that close, then? I just thought…”

“No,” Abby interjected.

“What?” 

“We’re close,” Abby stated, as if the statement didn’t push Peter further into confusion.

“Oh.”

She nodded. 

“But…”

“We got to spend a lot of time together when Harley was…” she trailed off. “So, we got closer. And then we spent a lot of time when Harley…” she stopped again. “We just didn’t get a lot of time all together. It was usually just me and you or me and Harley. The times we had together was… they’re few and far between and that’s okay. That’s how it is, and that’s just… that’s how it is, okay?”

Peter, knowing not to push the topic, gave a curt nod. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I’m sure this is all… well I’m sure this is all confusing and difficult.”

“I’ve had worse,” Abby said.

Peter shut his eyes, cursing himself silently. “Of course. I didn’t even realize…”

“That’s not what I…” she paused. “Yeah. That.”

“You know, he’s right.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Harley. He said that you’re really smart and mature for your age, and I can just tell that you’ve got a lot of wisdom up there.” He poked her head.

She shook her head. “I ain’t got nothin’.”

“You’ve got a lot,” Peter insisted. “I… it must be hard, seeing someone you’re… close with not themselves. And I’m gonna try my hardest to remember the person I was, but I just…”

“Need time,” she said, a venom in the words that Peter didn’t understand.

“Yeah.”

“Like always,” she muttered.

The rest of their walk was in tense silence. 

.-~*~-.

The three sat on the couch, all staring at their devices, deep in concentration in three different ways.

Peter was scrolling through “Highlights of 2019” Buzzfeed articles, Harley was working on a science module, and Abby was on the season two finale of  _ The Flash. _

Peter leaned his head back, eyes squeezed tight. “Crap.”

Harley looked up from his laptop. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fourth quarter.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Yeah?”

“It’s fourth quarter of senior year. It’s exam season, and I don’t know if I remember any of the content I’ve learned this year, let alone enough to pass.”

Harley put his laptop down. “I’m not even sure if exams are gonna be happening like they planned.”

“What? Why not?”

“School is closed for the next two weeks while they implement new security measures and are easing off the big tests because of trauma or something.”

“Trauma?” Peter questioned.

Harley’s breath hitched. “Right. We haven’t debriefed you yet, have we?”

“Dr. Cho gave me the gist.”

“Run by me exactly what she said?” Harley asked.

“High tech shooter who was after me and knew my identity,” Peter said.

Harley let out a breath of relief. “Right.”

“Is that… not what happened?” Peter questioned.

“No, that’s… yeah that’s all.”

Peter squinted his eyes in disbelief. “But there’s obviously more to the story.”

“Nothing that matters.”

“Do you know how she knew my identity? I mean, I think I’m pretty careful with my identity. Or was I more reckless than I am now? Or was.” He grimaced. “Confusing.”

“She found out because she saw you without your mask.” Not a lie, not the truth.

“Where?”

“Where you were saving a kidnapping victim.”

“She kidnapped someone? Who?”

“It’s not like you’ll remember who they are if I told you,” Harley said, voice raising.

“Harley…” Abby warned.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Peter said, getting frustrated. “Were they okay?”

“No, Peter. They were not okay. They were kidnapped and tortured for two months. No one is  _ okay _ when they are kidnapped and tortured for two months. She was not a good person and she hurt a lot of people and she’s going to rot in prison for the rest of her life so it doesn’t matter what she did or what happened or who she hurt and how they are because it’s over!” Harley shouted. His hands trembled violently, his breathing uneven and eyes prickling with tears. “Fuck, I… fuck.” He slammed his laptop shut and slipped on his sneakers, slamming the door as he left the apartment, not looking back.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he answered the call, still seething and unsteady. “What?”

“Warm welcome, huh?”

Harley sighed. “Sorry, Tony. Peter just… it doesn’t matter. What’s up?”

“We need you to review the interrogation footage. You can say no, but your input could really help us decode what she meant. You know her better than all of us, and I wouldn’t be asking if this… so just, say no if you need to say no, but everything she said was gibberish to us, so we… we’re lost.”

Harley leaned against the cold exposed brick of his apartment building. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll pick you up in the morning.”


	4. Sometimes You Don't Get To Say Goodbye

“I’m gonna be back by dinner, so don’t you worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worryin’ in the first place, Harls,” Abby stated.

“I know you weren’t, but I still hadta say it.” He kissed her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Abby said. “You gonna be alright?” 

“I always am.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“Okay, maybe I’m not. But you know what I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Go. Shoo. Stop embarrassing me by stayin’ too long at dropoff,” Abby said, her words with no weight as she gave him another hug.

“I love you Abigail Keener! I am Abigail Keener’s big brother and I am the luckiest big brother in the whole world because I am Abigail Keener’s big brother and I love her!” Harley shouted as she walked into the school.

“You’re the worst!” she called.

“Love you too!” The smile faded from his lips as he turned back to Tony’s car parked at the curb, his stomach sinking low. 

“You ready?” Tony asked.

Harley nodded wordlessly. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

As they entered the tower, Tony stopped Harley.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I know. But I have to. It’s… it’s closure.”

“You don’t have to find closure like this.”

“But I am and I will. Now, let’s go.” Harley motioned at the door.

Tony sighed, knowing he couldn’t argue with Harley, and brought him into the large room.

“We have the video recording, audio recording and the transcript. Which would you feel more comfortable with?” Tony asked.

“There may be hidden meaning in her tone and body language, so I think I should see the video.”

“Are you sure?” Tony repeated.

“Tony. I’m sure,” Harley replied, exasperated.

“You can tap out any time. You know the drill.”

“I know.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I will, okay?” Harley said, impatiently.

Tony typed at his holo-keyboard, and pulled up a recording.

Rosemary sat at a metal table, forearms cuffed to avoid the welts on her wrists. As always, she was calm, unsettlingly so. She sat with straight posture, and though her eyes were red, heavy with dark bags, she still stared with intensity and confidence.

“Rosemary Rancoufe,” the agent said. “Ex-employee of Oscorp Industries. Nearly VP until Carlo Mariani took over for Robert Byers.” 

She glared him down.

“In 2010 there was a supervirus that wiped out data on all Apple products — phones, PCs, laptops, tablets, and more — followed soon after by another taking out all Microsoft products.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Twenty seven high profile R&D scientists kidnapped in the last ten years. These kidnaps were seemingly unrelated from all different backgrounds. Different companies, different positions, different ethnicities and genders and ages. However, after their kidnappings, there was an influx of leaks in their major corporations. Stock market plummets for the big businesses as top secret data is spread to the public.”

She pursed her lips.

“The most recent victim of the corporate kidnappings has IDed you as his kidnapper, and even if you do not confess to these other kidnappings, you are still going to be looking at a lifetime in prison for first degree kidnapping, torture, first degree murder, in addition to attempted murder and assault and battery.”

She leaned forward. “Once forgotten, a flame burning on a wick, waxy and worn and weary. But all must crumple, pop and crop and stop and all credit is due, for my time is done.” She smiled and bit down.

Tony shut down the video before Harley could see the rest.

“That’s it? That’s… she just… she’s…”

“Are you alright?”

“She’s dead,” Harley stated hollowly.

“She took a cyanide pill,” Tony confirmed.

“Oh.”

“Are you…”

“So… that’s all she said. She didn’t… there’s no justice. She just gets the easy way out.”

“Harley…”

“Because she did all this stuff, and now she doesn’t even… she just gets the easy way out. I… for two months, and she… for years, and she just…”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes.”

“Not fair,” he said with a snort. “Not fair.”

“So you can see why we’re having trouble deciphering what she meant. We tried to compare it to her note…”

“What note?”

Tony paused. “The note she sent when we were trying to find you.”

“What did it say?” 

“Harley, I…”

“What did it say?” he repeated, firmer. 

Tony flicked his wrist, pulling up the copy. 

_“tony stark,_

_we have your protege. put ten million dollars into oscorp stocks and only then will we give you a location. this is but a speck of dust in the glass that those see half full._

_you have one week.”_

“Speck of dust in the glass that those see half full,” Harley read out loud.

“We never did find out what that meant.”

“It was referring to the underwater base,” Harley stated, the answer coming easily.

“What?” Tony asked, taken aback.

“Speck of dust in the glass that those see half full. It was an old base, a speck of dust, double meaning for the age and how small and forgotten it was in the scheme of history. The glass those see half full, water in a glass, underwater. And how the prison was always at half capacity.”

Tony, mouth dry, thick lump in his throat, nodded. “Oh.”

Harley looked up, softening. “But, I… I get why you didn’t figure it out. It’s… cryptic.”

“Yeah, and it only took you a whole five seconds to figure it out,” Tony replied, the words harsh.

“Well, I’m a lot more familiar with it than you guys were when you were trying to figure it out,” Harley tried to reassure.

Tony, not wanting to chastise unnecessarily any more, pulled up the transcript of the video. “So, what do you think this means?”

_“Once forgotten, a flame burning on a wick, waxy and worn and weary. But all must crumple and pop and crop and cropped all credit is due, for my time is done.”_

Harley’s brows scrunched in focus. “All credit is due. Credit… all credit.” He paused. “What if she’s giving us the directions to where she kept…”

“Oh shit,” Tony whispered.

“The flame has to do with something,” Harley said, moving on.

“Right. An abandoned building too unstable after a fire?”

“Or an old fire station,” Harley pointed out.

“But there’s gotta be hundreds in New York, let alone across the world.”

Harley read her words again. “Pop and crop and stop.”

“A little random.”

“And the biggest clue,” Harley said. “Crop, like cut? A barber shop?”

“Pop, like soda?”

“Or crop, like…”

“Pop. Cropping a pop. Popping a crop…”

They both snapped to look at each other, eyes wide. “Corn crops.”

“The base is in Iowa,” Harley said.

“FRIDAY, run a scan on abandoned buildings that suffered a fire in the past.”

“And abandoned fire stations,” Harley added.

_“There are fifty-four buildings that match that description.”_

Tony cursed under his breath.

_“However, there are only twenty-one that are still structurally sound, and one that has been a surveillance black hole for the last year.”_

“Black hole?” Tony asked.

_“There is one building that has not been registered in cameras or satellites since March 2019.”_

Harley and Tony met eyes again. 

“That’s gotta be it,” Harley said.

“It does,” Tony said, keeping a neutral expression.

“It’d be a two hour flight in the suits,” Harley said.

“We can’t just...”

“She could have the evidence set to self destruct,” Harley pointed out.

“I know,” Tony admitted.

“I’ll be fine in the suit. We have to…”

“I know.”

Harley raised an eyebrow. “Then, let’s go.”

The flight only ended up taking an hour and a half, and the tense air was filled with music and mindless discussion to keep Harley from falling into the deep end. 

As they approached the charred, bare, barn, there was a chill that shot down Harley’s spine.

“This is it, then?” Harley said quietly.

“This is it,” Tony replied. “You shouldn’t…”

“I’m coming in,” Harley interjected. 

“It’s not a…”

“I know it’s not a good idea, but I need to.”

Tony, biting his tongue, pushed forward, blasting through the chains on the door, and froze at the sight.

The barn was filled wall to wall of monitors, surveillance flickering between the hundreds of labs, screens labeled “Apple” and “Stark” and “Oscorp” and every other top tech company Harley could think of off the top of his head. But what made his stomach churn with bile rising to his throat was the panel dedicated to his apartment and school. Peter’s work and Abby’s classrooms and… and the room that he had been in for those two months.

“Holy…” Tony muttered.

“How far back does this go?” Harley asked aloud. He eyed the boxes stacked on the other side of the room. A gasp escaped his lips as he saw the titles of the DVDs. “Oglaholland June 2013. She’s… _2013_.” Bold words on the side of a box caught his eye. “Peter Parker, 2014 to present.”

Tony looked up. “What?”

Harley opened the box, his blood going cold. “Tony, this has information about the spider that bit Peter. This… this is his whole life in words, and then surveyed since he was thirteen. This predates me. She’s been… she’s been watching him before I even met him.”

“These files have information on everything about Peter’s powers and weaknesses,” Tony said, flipping through a manilla folder.

Harley’s forehead scrunched as he read a red stamped file. “May Parker, eliminated? What does… what does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” Tony said grimly.

He flipped through the file, his face paling. “The car crash was orchestrated.”

“Harley…”

“She murdered Peter’s only family. She made him an orphan! She ruined his… she…” Harley rummaged through the DVDs. “Peter Parker: reborn. Peter Parker: warehouse. May Parker: death. She… she documented it all.” He sifted through the DVDs. “His whole life is just… watched from a distance. He’s been… his whole life. I… I can’t believe…”

Tony snatched the DVDs from his hands and pulled him away from the boxes. “Backup is coming in the quinjet and they’re taking all of this.”

“She won’t even get what she deserves. Easy way out, easy way out.”

He backed up, steadying himself on the desk in front of the monitors. 

The monitors blacked out, and suddenly the room was surrounded by her. Her voice, projecting through the room, made his joints lock.

“Mr. Keener. So you’ve made it out and found my little hidey hole. Well, I’m sure I’m already gone, so there’s no reason to fret about that. However, by protocol, now that I know you’re here, I must make sure you get the fun best moments reel to keep you entertained.”

“What does she…” Tony started, but the words were cut abruptly off as the screens combined to one, Harley’s blood-curdling screams ringing against the walls of the barn, the image of Harley’s face contorting in pain as he was branded from behind cemented itself into Tony’s brain forever.

“Harley… c’mon, let’s…”

The video changed to Harley being electrocuted, seizing and screaming.

“Harley! We are leaving! Now!” Tony demanded, pulling the frozen teen from the desk.

As if on cue, the quinjet landed, the extraction crew exiting.

Tony was telling them things, voice raised and frantic, but Harley couldn’t hear it. The sound was muffled, muddled and far away. He was floating away.

As he watched the sky from his little window, though he wasn’t sure how he got there, he drifted further and further away. There was a distant voice speaking to him, a phantom pressure on his hand. But he was far away. Further and further away.

“Harley?”

He flinched. 

“Yeah. That’s good. That’s really good. Come back, bud. You can do it.”

_Tethers. Focus on the tethers. Focus on the anchors. Focus on the now._

“You’re doing great. You’re doing so good.”

Floor beneath his feet. Cold metal against his arms. The whiz and whir of air blowing past.

“You’re on the quinjet. It’s May fifth, twenty twenty. There are a lot of people here with us, but just focus on me, alright? Focus on my voice. It’s me, Tony, and we are heading back to New York. I’ve got a bottle of water for you if you’d like it. You were crying for a good half an hour, so you must be dehydrated.”

 _Crying?_ His hand caressed his cheek and found the dry remnants of tears. With a dry swallow, he eyed the water bottle, and slowly held out his hand.

“Yeah, here you go,” Tony said, handing him the bottle.

He tried to twist the bottle open, but he couldn’t find the strength, his hands too weak to even grip the cap.

“I’ll get that,” Tony said, after watching his hand hover over the cap for a long minute. “There you go.”

Harley held it with both hands, sipping unhurriedly at the lukewarm drink. With each sip, his mind began to clear. 

“How are you feeling?” Tony asked softly.

“Fuzzy. Green. Grey.”

“I figured. Do you want to stay with me tonight and…”

“I have to get home.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I’ll feel better if I go home,” Harley stated, a little frantic.

Tony paused, but gave a small nod. “Okay. You can go home.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to be okay to see Abby and Peter?”

“I _need_ to see them,” Harley said, voice cracking and hoarse.

“Oh. I see.”

“I have to see them. I have to know they…”

“I get it. Do you need me to…”

“I need to do it. You don’t have to… I need to do it.”

“Then I won’t,” Tony said, putting hands up in surrender.

“But, you’re going after you are present. It’ll do more harm to everyone if you’re not.”

Harley hesitated. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He sipped at his water again until it was gone.

“You still thirsty?”

He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

“No need to…” Tony stopped. “You’re welcome.”

“Did they get all the boxes?” Harley asked quietly.

“They did,” Tony replied.

“So people. They’re gonna… they’re gonna watch all those videos of me?”

“If you don’t consent to that, then we won’t. We won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“But it’ll be important information so they know what happened,” Harley said, closing his eyes.

“Yeah. It would.”

“Then they should.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Tony said.

“Then I’ll decide the same later.”

Tony pressed his lips into a thin line. “Alright. Alright.”

“Are they okay?” he asked, voice meak, barely above a whisper.

“Peter picked Abby up from school, and they’re both at the apartment. They’re safe. Don’t worry about that.”

A choked sob escaped Harley’s throat. “How am I going to look him in the eye knowing what I know? How can I… how can I keep this from him?”

Tony rubbed circles in his back. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What am I gonna do if he doesn’t remember, Tony? He has to… I can’t do this without him. I just got him back.”

Tony’s hand tensed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It hasn’t been okay for a long time.”

“It will be.”

Harley didn’t think he could believe that.


	5. Photograph (we made these memories for ourselves)

As Harley entered the apartment, he was greeted by loud laughs and the lingering smell of dinner on the table.

“Oh, you’re back. We got burrito bowls. Abby ordered yours for you since I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” Peter greeted.

There was a pang in Harley’s chest. You used to know my order by heart. 

When Peter looked up, his face fell. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just had something to wrap up on a project with Tony,” Harley replied blankly, grabbing the dish from the table.

“Right. Because you know Mr. Stark. Still haven’t gotten used to that one yet.”

Harley forced a grin. 

“Come join us. We were just looking at old photos to help jog my memory. I’ve gotta hear your side of the story because all I’ve heard is Abby’s and I don’t think she’s the most reliable source.”

Harley looked over Abby’s shoulder and smiled softly. 

It was of Abby, mouth open and drooling, barely balanced on the couch cushions, surrounded by empty candy wrappers and Peter in the far background staring at the camera like a deer in the headlights with a mouth full of King sized Snickers bar.

“Abby had sneaked five bags of Skittles while we were cleaning the kitchen after she had already had three bags of fruit gummies.”

“And why do I look like I am committing treason?”

“You didn’t fairly trade for the Snickers which were rightfully owned by me, and you thought that I wasn’t looking.”

Peter chuckled.

The photo was of Harley under a pile of fluffy puppies at the park with Peter pointing at him and laughing.

“It was Christmas Eve. We had just seen the second Frozen movie, and didn’t sit well with all of us, so you took us to the dog park to brighten up the mood. Well, you happen to carry a bag of dog treats everywhere you go, and when you…” leaned in to kiss my cheek, “distracted me, you slipped some into my coat pocket, and the dogs went crazy. It didn’t help that you yelled “puppies! treats!” and got their attention.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault?”

“It definitely was,” Harley said, with a small chuckle, surprisingly himself.

“That is a gift, Keener. A gift. Puppy piles are the truest form of happiness.”

When Peter swiped, he let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Okay. You have to tell me the story behind this one.” When he saw the silent sadness in the two sibling’s faces, his smile wavered. “What? What’s wrong?”

Harley pursed his lips as he eyed the photo, a selfie of the three of them in their Christmas Eve pajamas, bright smiles, oblivious to the horrors that would happen just an hour after the photo was taken. The last photo they had taken before Harley was taken.

He shook his head and gave him a tight grin. “Nothin’. Just reliving the embarrassment.”

“Tony got them made for you. The pajamas with your face, I mean. They were actually pretty comfortable,” Harley said, clearing his throat to hold back the emotions he was feeling.

“And the golden retrievers? Is there a story behind that?”

“Our physics teacher has a service dog, and you were always so enamoured by him that I figured I just had to.”

His eyebrows raised. “We have the same physics teacher?”

Harley hesitated. “We used to. But I’m in online schooling now.”

“Why?” Peter asked, innocent and unaware of the baggage that came with the answer.

“Midtown’s learning style just wasn’t for me,” Harley replied, giving him a courteous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Peter nodded, taking the response with no question. He continued to swipe and frowned. “Why aren’t you in any of these?”

“That’s when I was on the SI retreat in Iyezbeckestan,” Harley replied, the lie coming out with ease after months of repetition.

Abby gave Harley a pointed look. Clap, clapclap, clap.

Harley sighed and gave a small nod. ‘Not now,’ he mouthed back.

‘Soon,’ she replied.

Harley looked to Peter who giggled at the photos, free of the weight that he carried before. He saw the way his eyes crinkled in delight and his lips curled up with his tongue sticking out as he concentrated. He saw the way he glanced to Harley, tentative but fond. He couldn’t find it in himself to take that away from Peter. 

And maybe he was a little selfish. Maybe he didn’t want to lose this, the light, simple joy. 

Maybe he wasn’t just a little selfish. Maybe he was pretty damn selfish.


	6. I Don’t Want To Mess This Thing Up (i don’t want to push too far)

Peter sat on the roof, feet dangling over the side of the bricks, feet swinging against the side. The chilly May evening air was crisp, his fingers bundled in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Well, not his sweatshirt. Harley’s.

Peter was still on edge with this new Harley. As much as he longed for the normality that Harley exemplified, the simplicity and the trust that he obviously used to have, he didn’t know him. He had been an egregious, self-centered, obnoxious, spiteful jerk, and to see him suddenly flip the switch, it was… he felt like he was constantly being played.

Because that’s what Harley did. Or at least, used to. He pushed Peter’s buttons just to watch him squirm. He learned everything that made him tick and used it against him. He kept him up at night, and he threw shitty parties, and he stole Peter’s grocery money, and left little messes everywhere, and he made Peter so  _ mad _ , and yet, now? The only thing that is making Peter mad is how much he doesn’t understand Harley.

In theory, Peter can understand how much change can happen in ten months. He’d had a lot of change in his life. More had happened to him in less time. But somehow, he didn’t understand how they could go from where they were to where they are.

Harley was… he seemed too good to be true. He was gentle and patient and now knew every idiosyncracy and nuance of Peter’s life and character, and knew how to work around them all perfectly and fit himself into the mess that he was. He was like the missing screw in an Ikea table that finally makes it stand. He was well-balanced and mature and healthy and seemed to finally have his life together.

But, despite his open arms and kind demeanor, there was a dark looming presence following him that he didn’t quite understand yet. There was a weight pressing heavy on his shoulders, and Peter knew that from experience.

Harley was sad. And it was obvious that Peter was part of that. But someone doesn’t get as sad as Harley without a push from something else. There was a lot he didn’t know about Harley, but that meant that there was just a lot more to learn.

He perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, a slight thump as the new presence took a seat next to him.

“Been a while since we’ve come up here.”

Peter looked to Harley, trying to decipher the melancholy deep in his eyes. 

_ “Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly playing a role, except I don’t know the lines. It’s like I’m trapped in this improv exercise, on stage where everyone has a script except for me.” _

_ Peter frowned. “Yeah. I get that. Well, not really. I’m not an actor. But I… I get what you mean.” _

_ “Sometimes I think I’ve been playing this character for so long, I don’t think I’d… I’m not sure I remember who I am. I don’t know if I  _ could  _ remember how to be me again.” _

_ “You don’t have to be anyone. And that you that you used to be? That might not be you anymore. People are always changing, and change it… it can be good. It can be really good. If you don’t change then that means you’re not growing. Sometimes you have to change to become the person you’re meant to be.” _

_ “What if I’m… what if I’m changing into something worse? What if I’m not a better person than I was?” _

_ “Then be that better person. You control your change. You can’t control anyone else but yourself, so choose to change. Choose that better person.” _

Peter blinked.

“I brought up some hot chocolate. It’s kinda tradition now.”

“I hope there’s no whiskey in it,” Peter joked, trying to keep a light tone.

“You remember?”

Peter furrowed his brows. “What?”

“When you drank my hot chocolate with whiskey and made a mess spittin’ it out? You…” Harley read his expression. “Oh. You don’t. You’re just… because you still think I drink.”

“You don’t?” Peter questioned, surprised.

“Didn’t notice?” Harley asked, a light tease in his voice to mask his hurt.

“You hadn’t said.”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

Peter pressed his lips in a tight line. “That’s good. That’s… really good.”

“Been sober six months,” he said softly.

“That must’ve been hard.”

“You helped me every step of the way, even when I….” He gulped. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m sure you deserved it,” Peter said, voice quiet.

“I didn’t. But you… you saw something in me I couldn’t see. You believed in something I couldn’t. You made me believe it. Believe in me.”

Peter, unable to craft a response, sipped at his hot chocolate. 

_ The warm, rich liquid coated his throat, nearly spilling from the mug as he laughed. “No, no, go back. You did  _ what _?” _

_ Harley groaned. “You don’t gotta be a dick about it.” _

_ “No, no, really. You climbed up a tree and ate raw leaves because you wanted to be like a brontosaurus?” Peter asked incredulously. _

_ “No!” Harley scoffed, as if that was a ludicrous assumption. “I wanted to be like an apatosaurus.” _

_ Peter raised his eyebrows. “And why exactly?” _

_ “Because Littlefoot from  _ Land Before Time  _ was an apatosaurus and I wanted to be just like him.” _

_ “So you  _ ate leaves? _ ” _

_ “Well I sure as hell couldn’t shapeshift into a fucking dinosaur, so it was the closest I was getting!” _

_ Peter snorted, and sipped at his hot chocolate. _

_“At least it wasn’t like the time I was trying to be like Timone from_ The Lion King _and ate bugs.”_

_ Hot chocolate spurted out of Peter’s nose.  _

_ “Fuckin’ gross!” Harley exclaimed. _

_ Peter laughed hysterically, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “Oh my God. Why did you eat so much weird shit as a kid?” _

_ “Because I was imaginative,  _ Peter. _ I had imagination.” _

_ Harley’s eyes were bloodshot, his grip weak on his mug as he sipped, both hands on the ceramic. _

_ Peter leaned on his side, their arms touching, a steady reminder of his unwavering presence. _

_ “This is really good,” Harley said softly. _

_ “Yeah?” Peter asked. _

_ “Haven’t had it without… without the whiskey in a while.” _

_ “I put some caramel in it instead. Thought it could make up for it. Or at least, try to.” _

_ Harley nodded. “It’s nice. I think I… I like it more like this.” _

_ “It’s gonna get easier, Harley. We’re gonna… you’re gonna find something to fill the hole.” _

_ “I just want to feel whole again.” _

_ “Hey. Brought you somethin’.” _

_ The scent of chocolate was masked by something vile that made Peter’s stomach twist and churn. _

_ Peter eyed it wearily. _

_ “Tried something new,” Harley said with a soft smile. _

_ Peter smiled back, though it came across as more of a wince. “Smells… good.” _

_ Harley raised his mug and clinked it to Peter’s, taking an easy sip, clearly not affected to it the way Peter was. _

_ Peter hesitantly took a sip, the disgusting drink sliding down his throat, the flavor lingering on his tongue. He gave another polite smile, and continued to sip, taking all of his energy not to grimace at each drop that met his taste buds. _

_ His stomach gurgled, his eyes going wide. _

_ “You okay?” Harley asked. _

_ He gave a quick nod, but before he could stop himself, spurted vomit all over Harley’s shirt. _

“You okay?”

Peter was pulled from his thoughts, head pounding.

Harley put his hand over his, rubbing circles on the cold skin.

_ Peter glanced at Harley, trembling hands scribbling words in their physics packet. “Hey,” he whispered. _

_ Harley looked up, frustration evident in his eyes.  _

_ Peter interlocked his fingers with his, running his thumb over the side of his hand. _

_ Harley immediately relaxed, hand settling into a manageable clench. “Thank you.” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ Sunset filling the sky, the sound of Harley’s silent sobs and hiccups echoing in the chilly autumn air, the warmth of his hand in his. _

_ Harley hooked up to countless machines, bruised and bloody, so frail that his joints are poking through his skin in sharp and rough bumps. His thin limbs wrapped in bandages and trapped in casts. His cold, bony fingers in Peter’s. _

_ Harley in a nice pink suit, smiling at him with a bright glistening glow in his eyes, fingers tracing patterns in the back of Peter’s hands.  _

_ A weak squeeze, and thumb petting thumb. “I love you too.” _

“Yeah. It’s… I’m great.” Peter paused, biting his lip lightly. “Things are really different now, aren’t they?”

Harley nodded solemnly. “Yeah. They are.”

“And us? We’re really different too, aren’t we?”

Harley set his mug down, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I… I noticed that there’s more than what you told me. I mean, you… there’s obviously more to the story than reformed roommate. I mean, I’ve seen the photos. We were happy together.”

Harley gulped. “Yeah. Together.”

“So we were,” Peter confirmed. “Together.”

Harley stared at the stars sadly. “Yeah. We were. But I… you don’t remember, so I’m not going to…”

Peter cut him off with a kiss.

_ Grape sparkling cider. Jubilance. Excitement. Content. _

_ Sweet molasses and pure sugar. The cold, hard metal of the fridge against his back. Impatience. Want. Need. _

_ Chapped, busted lips. Salty tears. Relief. Grateful. Desperation. HarleyHarleyHarley. _

Peter pulled away, lips parted, Harley staring back at him in shock. Before he could get a word in, Peter leaned back in, connecting their lips once more.

Harley’s eyes fluttered shut, melting into the familiar feeling, cupping Peter’s face in his palm.

Harley’s calloused fingers on his skin, forever ingrained in his brain and now reminded once again. The lingering sweetness of hot chocolate on their tongues as they swiped against each other. Harley’s soft blonde locks twisted in his fingers, the low guttural noise he let out when he tugged. His firm chest a steady pressure as he desperately tried to rid of any space between them. 

Something in him remembered the perfect sensitive skin on the neck to nip and suck at that made Harley gasp his name in a way that made his spine shiver.

He remembered the way Harley’s lips were colder when their lips met again, and the way that Harley’s teeth dragged against his lower lip. He remembered the way it felt climbing onto Harley’s lap and fitting perfectly, his legs straddling around his thighs, and their bodies pushing flesh together.

When they pulled apart, panting and breathless, they rested their foreheads together, just savoring the moment and the feeling of their pounding hearts on their fingertips.

“I may not remember everything or how I fell in love with you, but I don’t have to remember to remember how I feel about you.”

Harley chuckled wetly. 

“I loved you, didn’t I?”

He nodded silently.

“I think I still do.”


	7. Get Us Back To Better Than Before

While Abby was at school, Peter and Harley found themselves in a strange standstill.

The night before was filled with passion and impulse, and now that the excitement died down, Peter had realized that despite the way he felt, he still knew nothing about Harley. 

Said blonde was typing rapidly at his computer, eyebrows knit in concentration, pen between his teeth as he ground his teeth together.

He let out a relieved sigh and leaned his head back, slamming his laptop shut. “I am done with virtual Government. Fucking piece of shit modules makin’ my life a livin’ hell.”

Peter raised an amused eyebrow. “Sounds rough.”

“It was. It was the roughest, most incomprehensible, convoluted, unnecessary…” He eyed Peter’s expression. “Just a pain in the ass.”

Peter grinned. “I can see.”

“But I’m done, and never have to do a 2,000 character essay on _Brown v. Board_ again.”

“That mean you’re done for the day?” Peter asked.

“That means I am, in fact, giving up for the day. I think this warrants a brain break,” Harley confirmed.

“Well, I happen to be craving Thai, and I am really _really_ hoping my favorite place is still open, so how about we take a trip out and grab a bite?” Peter asked, obviously tip-toeing around the concept.

“I could go for Thai,” Harley said with a shrug.

The two headed to the Thai restaurant, coincidentally the same Thai restaurant that Peter had dragged him to after The Reveal. 

“I didn’t realize this was your favorite Thai place,” Harley said.

“Did I never take you here?” Peter asked.

“No, you… we came here. I just didn’t realize it was your favorite. We… didn’t get out as much.”

“Well we should do that more often,” Peter said.

The two get a table by the window and settle in the cushy chairs, ordering their drinks.

“So… tell me about… about you. About us. About… everything. I wanna get to know you,” he huffed a small chuckle, “again, I guess.”

Harley paused. “God, where do I start? A lot’s happened.”

“I can imagine,” Peter said.

“No, I don’t think you can.” Harley drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I sucked. I really, really sucked. And I know all you really know is me sucking, but I swear I don’t suck as much. At least, I try not to.” He pauses. “No. I still suck. But… for different reasons. But not the whole cocky, asshole-y, partying, alcoholic kind of sucking.”

Peter giggled. “I’m sure you don’t suck.”

“Oh, you would definitely disagree if you knew the shit I’ve put you through. But, uh, we’re figuring it out. We’re trying to.” He swallowed. _“I’m_ trying to.”

“So, how did you stop sucking?” Peter asked, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm.

“It started with little good days. The anniversary of your uncle’s death, we watched Jurassic World, played Just Dance, and made a mess in the kitchen having a splashing fight while doing the dishes.”

Something lights up in Peter’s mind. _Warmth. Warmth surrounding him, bundled up in fluffy blankets, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in his trembling hands. Jubilance, light and floaty feelings in his chest, cheeks aching from toothy smiles. Barely exerted with a racing heart. Hot water sprinkled onto his skin, chest fuzzy, Harley’s arms wrapped around him as he soaked his shirt._

“I think that’s where it started,” Harley continued, pulling Peter from his memories. “Then things got worse before they got better. I was still getting trashed instead of dealing with my problems and lashing out at you. And then, well, you stumbled into the bathroom, basically bleeding out.”

“And that’s how you found out?” Peter questioned.

“Actually, no,” Harley replied. “But that was really the catalyst for me trying to stop being such a dick. I, uh, God it’s gonna sound so stupid now.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“In exchange for me going sober, I made you…” He covered his face with his hands, embarrassed.

“What?” Peter urged.

“I gave you self defense lessons. To defend yourself from what I assumed to be an abusive partner.”

_Harley’s weak punches. Peter holding back a smile. Memorizing the ways his skin felt on his._

Peter chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. “I see why that’s funnier with hindsight.”

“It was fucking embarassing is what it was!” Harley exclaimed. “Anyways, with us both working to get past our unhealthy coping mechanisms — because, yes, Peter, you were using it as an unhealthy coping mechanism — we got closer.”

_Letting himself get hit. Knuckles colliding until it bruised. The relief of the punishment. The pain deep and dark in his heart trickling away as he felt the pain somewhere else._

Peter gulped. “Was it hard? Getting sober?” 

“Fuck,” Harley breathed. He nodded. “Yeah. It was,” he shook his head with a sigh, “God, it was hard. But you were… you were so good. You were so supportive and you helped me wean off of it gradually and you didn’t… even when I relapsed, we figured it out. Same to you. Because you did too.” Harley bobbed his head. “But, yeah. Been sober for a while. And it feels good. Of course I still crave it, but I know what it did to me and I don’t ever want to go back to that. Especially now that I’ve got Abby.”

“Right. Abby,” Peter said. “She told me we’re close but I just…”

“Don’t really see it?” Harley said. 

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don’t really get you two. You have this special connection that not even her and I have. You were there for her when I couldn’t. And you just… you’ve been through a lot together and that made your bond even stronger.”

_Salty tears. The pressure of her tiny body pressed to his chest. Silky blonde hair beneath his palm._

“Does she know I’m…”

“Yeah. You, uh, you guys got kidnapped together.”

Peter choked on air. “What?!”

“It all worked out. Nobody got too hurt. It was a while ago.”

Peter relaxed. “Oh. Okay.”

“So, uh, how _did_ you find out? About… you know.”

“You got stabbed again.”

Peter sucked a breath in. “Yikes.”

Harley chuckled. “Yeah, yikes. It was after we… we had a big fight. I got drunk, said some things. You had a bad relapse and we fought again. And then you pushed yourself a little too far over the edge and, well, yeah.”

“Do we fight a lot?” Peter asked.

“Honestly? Yeah. We do.”

Peter frowned. “Oh.”

“We don’t much these days. It’s gettin’ better. A lot better. There was just… a lot going on.”

“Well, whatever we had, it must’ve been something special because I still feel it. It’s like… it’s like there’s this pull that keeps tugging me towards you. And being with you, it makes me feel safe. And it makes me feel… happy. And I haven’t been happy in a while.” 

Harley smiled softly and grabbed Peter’s hand, kissing his knuckles.

"Are you happy?" Peter asked softly.

"I am. I really am," Harley said honestly. 

"What were we like? When we weren't... fighting."

Harley sucked in a sharp breath. "We... we found ways to balance each other out. We're both very broken people, but somehow, we found a way to make it work. I... I went through a really tough time mentally. And it's been something that I've been dealing with for a while. And of course, you've... you've got your stuff too. But it's... we find a way. You know? We make it work. We make _us_ work."

"Well, what did we used to do?" Peter asked with an innocent excitement that Harley hadn't seen in... ever. "Did we have a favorite date night spot? Did we go to see movies at the theatre? Or are you more of a 'go out and do something' kind of guy?"

Harley's smile faded. "Like I said, we, uh, we don't get out much."

Peter's face fell. "Oh."

"We... we usually stay in is what I mean!" Harley says quickly. "With Abby, it's really hard to go out unless she's at a friends. But we... we have movie nights and we have nice dinners and we... we do... stuff."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Stuff?"

Harley's face burned with blush. "Not like that."

"Oh. So we haven't...?"

Harley shook his head. "Not yet."

Peter's lips parted. "Oh."

“How about I tell you about Thanksgiving.”

A warm fuzzy feeling rushed over Peter. “This feels like it’s gonna be a good story.”

Harley grinned. “It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhhhhh hi. i,,,, can't promise that i'm back. or that i'm actually gonna finish this one. but uhm,,,,, yeah. here's a chapter. it's short but,,,, it's content?


	8. The End

And here is what I planned for the rest of the book.

Don't You Remember?

Peter has to take Abby to school and gets a rush of memories and more pit in the stomach feelings. A teacher says how great it is to see Peter back. Peter gets overwhelmed and hurries out. When he gets home he has a new phone from Tony and has a bunch of worried texts from Ned and MJ. He reveals his amnesia to them and they ask him what he knows. He repeats what Harley has told them and the reply with lots of held back responses. They meet up IRL and the two fill in some of the gaps from their perspective, but don't mention anything from when Harley was gone. Peter questions them about it and they say it's not their place. Peter gets curious.

This whole thing I wrote was rather going to be part of this chapter as a flashback or a separate one-shot for the series:

Entering the doors to his old elementary school, Peter felt like a fish out of water. It was so much smaller than he remembered, but it still smelled of waxy crayon and glue. The bricks had their usual chipping paint that he so fondly remembered running his fingers against when he walked through the halls, single file and bright eyed.

He stopped at the wall of class photos, squinting at the tiny faces scrunched together dressed in maroon t-shirts. There he was. Tiny, frail, finally acclimated to his new life. Happy. _Happy._

“Peter?” 

Peter turned from the photo, eyes wide. “Mrs. Benson?”

“Wow! Look at you. All grown up. I haven’t seen you since… wow, since you were in fourth grade. Still nose deep in books I hope.”

He shook his head, a soft grin on his lips. “Haven’t had much time.”

“What brings you back here?” she asked with an innocent curiosity.

“Oh, I, I’m enrolling my uh, my... kid. She’s coming this semester.”

Her face dropped. “Your daughter?”

“Well, my uh, well she’s, I’m, she’s… I’m her guardian. She’s not mine. I’m too young to…”

She let out a very forced laugh. “Of course you are.”

“She’s an orphan,” he said, cringing at his oversharing. “I took her in.”

“That’s very brave of you. How old is she?”

“Nine,” Peter responded.

“Oh. So she’s not…”

“Nope. I got her pretty late. We’re still… I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

She softened. “Parenthood is hard no matter how old you are. You’re… gosh, Peter. How old are you? You must only be…”

“Seventeen. Eighteen in August.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Peter gave a lopsided smile. “But it’s alright. I… sometimes the world works in mysterious ways and I… you gotta roll with the punches.”

“Well, you know that this school, though not the most funded, accommodates any and all types of kids coming from all kinds of families, and you’ll find as a parent, that we will do anything to help you and to make sure your child gets the best education they can with what we’ve got.”

“Thank you. That… that means the world, really.”

“Make sure to talk to the staff about NSLP. They could really help with alleviating an extra stressor in the morning.”

“I’m very familiar with NSLP. That was a lifesaver when I went here.” He smiled nostalgically. “Those cafeteria nachos always hit different.”

She chuckled. “How are you doing, Peter?”

“I’m managing,” Peter replied. “Just… just trying to figure it out as I go.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Peter nodded. “Just lots of things are changing and change is really scary.”

“I totally understand.”

Peter bit his tongue. “It was really nice seeing you, Ms. Benson.”

“And it was nice seeing you. I’m sure you’ve got places to be, so I’ll leave you to it.” She started to walk past but turned around. “If you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , especially with your… you know where to find me.”

“Thank you.”

“You have a good day now, alright?”

“I will.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath, heading to the office. “Hi, I’m Peter Parker. I’m called earlier about enrolling my… child?”

The receptionist looked up. “Peter Parker?” She squinted her eyes as she inspected his face. “You won the 2010 Spelling Bee.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up surprised. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“You…” 

Peter could tell she was having the same thoughts that Ms. Benson had had.

“Well, here’s the welcome packet. All information should be in there. We’ll need immunization proof, a utility bill to show that you live in the district, and a copy of your child’s birth certificate. Because of your unique situation, we’ll also need some proof of guardianship.”

Peter nodded, mind swirling, overwhelmed. “And when is this due?”

“Just get it to us as soon as you can,” she said.

“Alright,” Peter said with a firm nod.

“Relax, sweetie. You’re doing great.”

“Huh?” Peter asked, confused.

“It’s your first time enrolling a kid to a school and you’ve got that new parent look on your face, but I promise you, you’re doing great. Your kid is gonna be just fine.”

“O-oh. Thank you.”

She took an over-exaggerated deep breath. “Relax.” She gave him a warm smile. “Get those papers back to me as soon as you can, and we’ll try to squeeze her in when school starts back up.”

“Thank you so much,” Peter said gratefully.

“You’re doing just fine. Just remember that.”

“Have a nice day.”

“You too, sweetie.”

Peter held the packet to his chest and exited the doors, doors that he was quite familiar with and would become more accustomed to.

CHAPTER NINE: I Know The Truth Now (i learned it a little too late)

Peter confronts Harley about where he keeps disappearing to. He asks where he's been going to and what he is hiding. Harley sighs and tells hm that there's an investigation and that there was a supervillain that was after Peter and had been stalking him for years. He accidentally lets the fact about May's murder slip and Peter goes silent and asks "she kill May?" Harley is like "oh shit" and Peter says he needs some space. There'd probably be some filler argument and Peter saying how he feels like no one is telling him the full truth.

CHAPTER TEN: Back To December

Peter is bored while Harley and Abby are out and he is not cleared to go on patrol, so he takes a look around the apartment again to get clues of the life he is living. He finds Harley's notebook and is confused by it but when he opens it he gets a sudden rush. There's a big memory jumble of memories from when Harley was kidnapped with a big hunkin' scoop of angsty angst. Harley comes back and Peter is crying and upset that he didn't tell him sooner. Harley doesn't know what to say except that he wanted to spare Peter from the pain again. Peter still pulls him into a teary kiss.

"We've been through hell, huh?" Peter asked as he pulled away, hand cupping Harley's cheek, thumb rubbing lightly at his cheekbone.

Harley laughed as he kissed him again. "At least I've got you."

"Yeah, and I'm stuck with you."

CHAPTER ELEVEN: No Day But Today

Peter and Harley go back to Siren's base that has now been emptied of all of her boxes. They stop the computers from leaking all the information on them because for some reason they were going to do that when Peter's biometrics met it. Peter gets a glimpse of Harley getting tortured and sees May getting murdered which is a big ouchie. They destroy everything and watch it all burn down. The book ends with them on the roof, drinking hot chocolate, having a closure conversation and have a bunch of come together moments with their nonverbal intimacy and stuff and looking forward to the future. It would probably end with a snappy one liner about how everything is going to be okay that might also be a direct quote from an earlier chapter.

AND THAT'S IT!

Once again, I'm so sorry that I could not have written the rest of this, but truly, I don't think I would be able to. Parkner has brought me many amazing things and so has this fic, and it will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you all once again for reading and for sticking around. Thank you for your support and your positivity and your encouragement. Thank you for your dedication and your patience. Thank you for loving my story like I loved it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And that brings the "and they were roommates" series to a close.

Stay safe.

-impravidus


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